


And a Wedding Dove in a Pear Tree

by Rainah (RainahFiclets)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainahFiclets/pseuds/Rainah
Summary: Alex wants a big white wedding, one that will show the world he is exactly who he wants to be. George couldn't care less about the details, he just wants to marry the man he loves.





	And a Wedding Dove in a Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rascalisafatcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rascalisafatcat/gifts).



It had started out so wonderfully. George was sure he would remember that moment for the rest of his life: Alex on one knee, eyes shining as he looked up as George and said "Will you marry me, old man?" and George had hauling him to his feet for a blistering kiss that answered the question. 

It was Alex, the man he was going to spend the rest of his life with, so George was willing to overlook the 'old man' comment. He was less likely to overlook _this._

"Alexander," George tried to keep his voice mild. They were supposed to be snuggling in front of the television, but his shoulders were already tense and the take out lay forgotten. "Can you repeat that for me?"

"I love you so much?" Alex tried tentatively.

"Not that bit." Not that he ever got tired of hearing it.

"I scheduled two cake tastings on Saturday?"

George sighed. He had largely lost his rights to lazy Saturday mornings when he started dating Alex, but since they'd gotten engaged it had kicked into high gear. "And did you recall that I coach Jack's little league on Saturdays?"

"I did!" Alex protested. "The first one is in the morning, before you start, and the second is in the evening!"

George frowned. "What about dinner?"

"The cake is dinner."

"Alex."

"Fine, dinner after. But I don't think you'll be hungry, I booked the tasting at Sugar Lane."

"Sugar Lane?" George asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what is that going to do to our wedding budget?"

"Not much!" Alex raced over to the table, shuffling around the papers there. Invite lists, centerpieces, flower arrangements, DJs. "Okay, so it’s going to be a little more than we originally planned. But it's the cake, George. People are going to remember if we have a bad cake."

George was having none of it. He followed his fiancé, resting both hands on Alexander's slim hips. "No one," he said, low in the man's ear, "is going to care if we have a twelve layer red velvet monstrosity or a vanilla cake from the bakery around the corner. It has to feed the same number of people."

"Which far exceeds the capacity of the corner bakery, unless you want _two_ cakes." 

That wasn't a bad idea, but George could see from the set of Alexander's chin that he wasn't going to go for it. Not when the chance to have a fairytale wedding was on the table. The perfect day, with all their friends and families...

George cleared his throat. "Have you, ah..." What was the right way to put it? A way to ask, without looking like he was doubting his fiancé. "Have we got any more RSVPs?" He asked finally.

"One!" Alex said, triumphant. He managed to find it in the pile of papers, waving it before George's nose. "My cousin! His name is William, he moved to the states a few years ago. We emailed a few times, I helped get him a job."

"Ah, right. William." George had no idea who that was, but it didn't matter. It was the first RSVP they had gotten from Alex's family, and he knew how much Alex would treasure it. "No word from your father then?"

The triumphant look faded. "None yet. I'm going to send it again, I don't know if he got it. It can be hard to send mail to St. Croix."

"Absolutely." He hoped that was so, he really did.

Alex flashed him a dazzling smile. "Now, about the ceremony. I looked up the laws surrounding releasing several doves..."

George groaned. _"Alex..."_

The problem was, George just didn't care all that much. Getting married he could take or leave, having done it once and ended it in disaster. And he was never one for pomp and circumstance. A simple wedding in a church or, hell, going down to city hall in their best tuxes with a few witnesses in tow. He didn't see why they needed to invite half their workplace, the neighbours, and all of Alex's exes to the wedding. 

"We don't know these people," he protested to Alex one night, as his fiancé fiddled over the seating arrangements.

"Yes we do. Remember Steuben! You like Steuben! You talked about golf all night!"

"Yes, right." George tried to remember, he really did. "He's your ex, right?"

Alex's face fell. "Coworker."

Though George considered it a fair guess, as the two lists were of almost equal size. 

A week later though,at the cake tasting, he was at the end of his rope. "Can't I just meet you at the alter?"

"No," Alex snapped, pushing another bite of cake towards him. "Try the lemon."

"Who has lemon in a wedding cake?"

It earned him a scowl. "Lemon is refreshing and classy."

_Unlike my fiancé._ George kept the mutinous thought to himself. It wasn't Alex's fault he was in a bad mood. Though it was his fault that George was sitting here in his little league clothes, sweat stained and dirty, and the waitstaff kept giving him dirty looks for it. 

_Why do we need this?_ he couldn’t help thinking as Alex finished the last piece of cake and started digging through his shoulder bag for the little catalogue he’d compiled for the wedding. Their colours, pictures of the venue, flowers, tuxes, and god knows what else. Just looking at it gave George a headache. 

“George have you seen it? I think we might have left it in the car, I want to make sure the cake matches those napkin rings we found-”

 

“You found,” George corrected. 

Alex stopped looking to give him a look. “Please _try_ and act like you care about our wedding, George.”

“I care about our wedding!” 

“Well you have a funny way of showing it!” Alex’s face flushed as he continued pulling out the contents of his bag. Folders and financials spread across the table, only to be covered by samples, swatches, and sketches for the wedding.

George signaled the waitstaff. “Our colours are green and white-”

“ _Emerald_ and white, with black accents-”

“Here is my card, we will give you a call tomorrow.” George stood. He felt very tired. “We’re going home.”

“But-”

“Home.” His tone brokered no argument. Nor did the way he got up, not waiting for his fiancé, and unlocked the car. Alex could come with him or walk. 

The car ride was deafeningly silent. Alex didn’t look at him once. When they got back to the apartment, Alex walked right past him to sit at the kitchen table, head in his hands.

George looked at him a long time. The angular lines of his body, the tension in his shoulders. Alex wasn’t sleeping enough, wasn’t taking enough time to do… well, anything that wasn’t work or the wedding. George realised with a start that he couldn’t remember the last time John or Herc was over.

With a sigh, he approached. One hand landed on Alex’s shoulder, the other dropped the wedding catalogue onto the table in front of him. “It had fallen between the seats of the car.”

“Thank you.” Alex’s voice was stiff.

_Fine then._ If he didn’t want to talk, George wasn’t going to force him. He hadn’t gotten this far by trying to force Alexander Hamilton into anything. He turned away, and was halfway to the bedroom when Alex spoke.

“If you would just _try_ and care a little more about the wedding-”

“I care about the wedding.” George said, turning back. “I do. What I do _not_ care about, is any of this _crap._ ” He waved a hand at the catalogue, which had fallen open to different floral arrangements Alex was planning. Was he really intending to turn their aisle into a carpet of rose petals? George had missed that development. “What does it matter, any of this? Jesus, Alex, we could put a downpayment on a house for what we’re spending on the wedding.”

“I don’t want a house though.” Alex looked away. “I want to marry you.”

“None of this is a requirement for a marriage.”

“So what?” Alex turned back, eyes blazing. “What do you want me to do? Go and tell everyone that there’s no party? No church, no reception, no dinner? You want me to tell my father that I expect him to travel from another _country_ to see me get married and it’s going to be a one hour affair in cargo shorts with a couple witnesses?”

“He’s not coming.” As soon as the words were out of George’s mouth, he regretted them. 

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

“You sent him two invitations. He hasn’t replied.”

"I know you don't like this, George." Alex's voice was deadly calm. "I know it is _difficult_ for you to comprehend that it is _challenging_ to send mail to a small island with only three postal offices, but please do not talk down to my family just because you don't understand it. Even if he can't come, do you know how hard it is? He's 78, George, he can't just waltz over for a visit whenever I want him to. Whenever he wants to," he corrected to himself.

But only one word caught George's attention. "You said, before, that I was your family."

Alex looked pained. "You _are_." 

"Then act like it!"

"You act like it!" Alex shouted right back. "Why can't you just accept that this is important to me?"

"As much as you can accept that it's not important to _me_?"

"You've done it already!" They were treading dangerous waters now. Alex's eyes were burning as he looked up at George. "You've had the big white wedding already. I've seen the pictures. Just because that one ended in divorce doesn't mean I'm not allowed to want to feel special on my wedding. Alex's voice stopped him short. Do you even want to get married?" 

"What?"

But Alex wasn't looking at him; his eyes were on the ground. "When I proposed, you didn't have to say yes. You didn't have to agree, if you don't care and you don't want this." There were tears in his eyes, and George didn't delude himself into thinking they were about ignored invitations.

"Oh, Alex." It was all he could take not to drop to his knees in front of his partner. "Come here." George opened his arms and Alex went to them, wrapping himself around George's waist. "I missed you," George said. It was true. Between planning for a wedding and fighting about planning a wedding, he couldn't remember the last time they'd just held each other.

It was a long few moments before the broke apart. Then, without further discussion, they moved to the sofa. George kept both of Alex's hands in his. 

"I want to marry you," he said, firmly. "I want to be your husband. I want to have those lazy mornings, couples fights, and tax benefits. I want you to know, every single day, how much you are loved. And I'm sorry I haven't been showing that. But this?" He waved a hand around them, at the various wedding paraphernalia cluttering the apartment. "I can't care less about. If we have a vanilla cake or a lemon cake... I don't give a damn, because I get to eat it with you. You can throw whatever party you want, but all I care about is that you walk out of there with a ring on your finger and a smile on your face."

Alex let out a shaky smile. "I did go over the top."

For the sake of their relationship, George tried to disagree. "It wasn't that bad..."

"It was. I did. And I'm sorry. I got so caught up in making sure we had the perfect wedding that I didn't- I didn't see- it wasn't what you wanted."

"I do. I do want it." George scrambled for the right words to say. "I want to get married to you."

"Well. I hope so." Alexander laughed, but George was holding him. He detected the small weight shift, his fiancé's nervous tic.

_Really, love? You still doubt me?_ After everything they'd shared and everything they'd been through, some small part of Alexander couldn't accept how much he was loved.

So George did the only thing that made sense. He let go of Alex, and dropped to one knee.

"What are you doing?" Alex demanded, but a smile crooked the corner of his mouth. "George-"

"Alexander Hamilton," George interrupted him. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes." Alex was laughing as he hauled George up for a kiss. It tasted like _home_. "Yes."

"Young man," George couldn't help adding on. If there was a chance to save his pride, he was taking it.

Alexander just have him a look. "If you start quoting YMCA I'm divorcing you."

**Author's Note:**

> First time I've ever written this pairing, so I hope I did them justice. You can find me on tumblr at thellamaduo.tumblr.com


End file.
